


Three Seconds. . .

by red2007



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s06e14 Monday, F/M, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red2007/pseuds/red2007
Summary: Three seconds can change the entire trajectory of a life.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 24
Kudos: 80





	Three Seconds. . .

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from but it's the 21st anniversary of Monday and I haven't written for me in a while.
> 
> This is unbeta'd and these characters don't belong to me. But if they did...
> 
> Audio version available on the Audio Fanfic Podcast [here](https://soundcloud.com/audiofanficpod/xf-three-seconds-by-red2007).

Three seconds can change the entire trajectory of a life.

The time it takes to introduce yourself to the mysterious Adonis sequestered masochistically in the basement.

It’s the time it took you to decide you trusted him enough to bare your burdens along with your milky white, mosquito covered flesh.

It is exactly the time it takes to shatter the hope of the most forward-thinking optimist you’d ever known with a metastasizing tumor he’d never seen coming.

The incision to reverse the disease and restore hope that was lost; three meager seconds.

Three seconds before he tore after you when you walked out on him. Three seconds before the sting of the bee had you flat on the floor.

One.

You enter, draw your gun, your training asserting itself. There are 17 people in the bank. Mulder and the perp are the only ones standing. No clear exits. Guns are drawn. You hear sirens in the distance; help is on the way.

Two.

Everything goes wrong and he surrenders to gravity. Blood pools, muddying expensive marble but you know the blood is more costly. His shredded spleen, spilling hope for truth on a cold floor.

Three.

You see everything.

That very first smirk. His earnest pleading for your belief by the rain soaked moonlight in Oregon. Every time he’s saved you. Every time you feared you’d lost him. The slight blush when he hands you a gold cross after you return from the unknown that tells you he didn’t just keep it; he cherished it. Every time he’s abandoned you in his search for answers. Every time you were the answer. The two of you. Together, always.

You see _every_ thing.

Uninterrupted kisses. The glistening edge of his clenched jaw as he pours himself into you, his forehead buried near your clavicle—his personal house of worship. Darkness, and loneliness, and forgiveness, and growth.

Children that can only be yours playing on the porch of an old farmhouse, wholly mediocre but remarkable—your living legacy of a life you’ll never live.

It takes three seconds to see the recognition in his eyes before everything is over in an instant.

Three seconds to wish and pray for a chance to live them all over again.


End file.
